Picture biting into a cream puff, and just as your cheeks blossom outwards, engorged with a sweet, pale cloud of confection, your teeth hit a brittle patch of crunchy sea salt. If you’re anything like me, you’re drooling a thick stream of saliva onto your breasts faster than you can nonchalantly mop it off at the idea of such a delight, and now you’re imagining how much you would like a taco to wash the sugar out of your mouth.
I want a crispy thin crust under the ooey gooey cheese on my pizza. I want a sweet port reduction drizzled over my bitter arugula salad. I want the hand that lovingly strokes my face to be scratchy with calluses.
I want a stretch of deliciously smooth asphalt under my bike for a few moments to interrupt the pockmarked and pitted war zone that comprises most of the streets in Providence.
I want the softest, tenderest love communicated to my body through violent shoving, throwing, tossing, choking, sweating, pushing, thrusting… Wait. What was I talking about?
Oh right. I want a hard wooden plank under my knees and a thick knot of guilt in my throat while I sit in church to temper the sweetness of heaven. Hard and soft. Sharp and sweet. Lush and spartan. Rough and romantic. Asleep and aware. Relaxed meets ready.
Boy meets girl.
Dude, how cool do women look when they wear menswear-inspired pieces? I love seeing a woman shake back the sleeve of her pointelle knit cashmere sweater to reveal the thick, no bullshit leather strap of her father’s watch. There’s a reason this way of dressing never goes out of style. I’m not calling it a trend because it’s not transient; it’s a way of life. Wearing men’s clothing feels good. The sensation of protection you got from wearing your dad’s old shirt to bed when you were small enough for it to touch your toes doesn’t go away when you grow up.
Menswear isn’t just a style, it’s like armor. It has talismanic properties. It makes you stronger. You have to do it right, though. The only person who ever looked good in head-to-toe men’s clothing was Diane Keaton in Annie Hall.
And BOY did she look good.
The rest of us have to mix it up. Sweeten it a little. A spoonful of sugar helps the arsenic go down. We have what you need. Come and get it and go for it.
Wipe the smug look off all that white lace by pairing it with trousers and a wool fedora. Oxfords are even prettier when they have a 3-inch heel.
Femme up a masculine ensemble with clean lines and some seriously bitchin’ pumps. Oh, and by not wearing pants.
The difference between menswear and menswear-inspired clothing for women? Tailoring.
Tough and pretty, like a diamond.
Or like a gun.